


In the Still of the Night

by J_L_Nevole (Brambleshadow_of_WindClan)



Series: Moonlight [2]
Category: Bon Jovi, Def Leppard
Genre: Alternate Universe - Energy Vampires, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M, pack mentality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-20 06:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brambleshadow_of_WindClan/pseuds/J_L_Nevole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"In the still of the night I hear the wolf howl, honey, sniffing around your door. In the still of the night I feel my heart beating heavy, telling me I gotta have more . . ."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Burn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/346204) by [ObsidianJade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianJade/pseuds/ObsidianJade). 
  * Inspired by [The Act of Submission](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/13402) by AddictedtoPuzzles. 



> Title and summary comes from Whitesnake's "Still of the Night."
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Joe Elliott, Rick Savage, Jon Bon Jovi, et al. are real people and property of themselves. No harm is intended or implied and no profit is made. I just have a wild imagination and am currently suffering from an intense werewolf and Def Leppard fetish.

_In the still of the night_   
_I hear the wolf howl honey_   
_Sniffing around your door_   
_In the still of the night_   
_I feel my heart beating heavy_   
_Telling me I gotta have more_

_In the shadow of the night_   
_I see the full moon rise_   
_Telling me what’s in store_   
_My heart started aching_   
_My body start a-shaking_   
_And I can’t take no more_

_No, no . . ._

Joe Elliott, the lead singer in British hard rock band Def Leppard, fought to open his eyes when he heard music. Then he realized what song was playing and sat bolt upright in bed, his eyes quickly scanning the beds where his bandmates were sleeping. Steve Clark, Phil Collen, and Rick Allen were still out cold, so that just left . . .

“Sav.” The name of the bushy-haired brunette bass guitarist came out as a snarl. Joe’s pale-green eyes glowed phosphorescent for a second as his irritation stirred the wolf sleeping inside him. Then the bright yellow-green color faded to its normal light-green, almost blue shade. In a flash, he was on his feet and striding into the living room of the penthouse condo.

“Really, Sav? Whitesnake? I know you like Queen, but I never figured you liked them.”

Rick Savage, his beta, shrugged. “What can I say? This song has a wicked guitar solo.”

Sav turned away from Joe and headed into the kitchenette, searching the cupboards. He pulled out a skillet and set it on the stove. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“Bacon,” Joe replied instantly, “and eggs.” His mouth was already starting to water.

It wasn’t long before the sounds and smells of cooking eggs and frying bacon saturated the air. Minutes later, crisp bacon and scrambled eggs were ready for both of them with plenty left over for the rest of the band if they so chose.

Joe was vaguely aware that the song had changed—was that really the Scorpions’ “Rock You Like a Hurricane”?—but at the moment, he didn’t care. He was too busy eating to care about Sav’s music choices. That is, until the lines _“The night is calling, I have to go. The wolf is hungry, he runs the show. He’s licking his lips, he’s ready to win on the hunt tonight for love at first sting.”_ The lupine scowled. “You better not have ‘Bark at the Moon’ up next, Sav.”

“The Ozzy Osbourne song?”

“Is there any other version?”

“Good point. It’s funny you should mention that . . .”

Joe growled. “It is, isn’t it? Do you love torturing me or something?”

He wished he could take the words back as soon as they were out of his mouth. For the past two days, his relationship with Sav had taken somewhat of a more intimate turn, one he wasn’t sure he was comfortable with. Correction: his wolf, being an alpha, was perfectly okay with the idea of Sav being more than just a friend. His wolf had already claimed Sav as part of his pack, but Joe suspected it wanted more than that—wanted Sav as its mate. He wasn’t at all sure how he felt about that, because wolf or not, the human side of him was there, too.

The sudden tension between him and Sav was palpable, and Joe really did not want to think too hard on what kind of tension it was, exactly. Thankfully, Sav broke it by clearing his throat. “You never answered my question from last night.”

“I thought I’d made it clear after I bit you. You’re part of my pack. Even if another werewolf turns you, you won’t be able to join their pack. I’m your alpha.”

“Why just me? I mean, you didn’t do that to the others, right?”

“No, I haven’t done this to the rest of the band, and I don’t know why it was you first, Sav.” He wanted to pin it on instinct, the full moon, his wolf, or a combination of all three, but that wasn’t quite right. If he thought about it too much, he was afraid of what he might discover—and what it said about himself.

“Aside from making me part of your pack, what else did you do?” Sav asked. “Last night, when those guys attacked us, I could _feel_ your emotions as if they were my own.” Sav’s eyes met Joe’s briefly, then quickly darted away. Eye contact meant a challenge, and he didn’t like challenging Joe’s authority like that—like a wolf. He was okay with mouthing off and messing around because those were human things, but Joe’s animalistic nature brought out something vulnerable, submissive, in him—and Sav hated himself for it. Yet at the same time, that submissive part of him knew he _should_ be at Joe’ s feet, because at least there he felt protected, could simply _be_. What he felt, though, wasn’t quite any of that. It was all of it, and actually, he _liked_ knowing Joe was his alpha, would be there for him—could even control him, like the way he’d made him slide down the brick wall outside that club the night before. He’d felt owned, and he never wanted the feeling to go away.

“Well,” Joe’s voice said, snapping Sav back to the man sitting across from him, “that would be one side effect. Since you’re mine”—his inner wolf practically howled with satisfaction—“we have a connection. I can tell where you’re at anytime, anyplace, and you can do the same. As you’ve noticed, there’s an empathy link.”

A short laugh escaped Sav. “Well, this is awkward.”

“You’re telling me,” Joe muttered.

“No kidding,” came Phil’s voice. Both vocalist and bassist turned their heads in his direction and saw the rhythm guitarist leaning casually against the doorway, Steve and Rick flanking him, all three of them looking half asleep. Then, as one, their eyes landed on the skillets still three-quarters full with eggs and bacon (Joe saw their eyes light up from halfway across the room). Within seconds, the other three Leppards were loading their plates and settling down beside Joe and Sav to dig in.

“So, what’s the schedule for today?” Rick asked in between bites of toast.

All five of them looked toward the refrigerator, where they’d pinned the tour schedule. Sav, who was closest, went and took in down, then brought it back. “Looks like we don’t have to report until nine this morning. It’s, what, seven thirty now?”

“Yeah,” Joe answered, checking his watch. “Might as well head down when we’re finished here.”

“’Kay,” Steve mumbled through a mouthful of bacon.

There was silence as the band settled into the serious business of eating, though Joe sent a glowering look at Sav’s smirk when Ozzy Osbourne’s “Bark at the Moon” started playing.

*

All five members of Def Leppard were at the World Arena in Denver by nine that morning. The guys were in their dressing room hanging out, talking, with Phil, Steve, and Sav messing around on guitars, when a familiar voice said, “Well, fancy meeting you guys here.”

Joe’s head, along with Sav’s, swiveled toward the dressing room door. Standing there, slumped against the doorway, hands in his pockets, was Jon Bon Jovi. His lead guitarist, Richie Sambora, was right behind him. Joe couldn’t see Tico Torres or David Bryan, but he knew they were around here somewhere since he’d caught their scent. The lupine also knew Jon and David weren’t human. They weren’t werewolves—he didn’t know what they were—but they fed on energy. Other people’s energy. And to be honest, that wigged Joe out a little. He could deal with his own lycanthropy—had been ever since he was about six—but other supernatural creatures made his wolf edgy. In spite of that, he liked Jon and his bandmates. So did the rest of Def Leppard, even if none of them knew Jon and David’s secret—except Sav, of course.

Presently, Joe smiled at Jon. “Yeah, ’specially since we’re touring together. Who would’ve thought?”

Richie laughed and clapped a hand on Jon’s left shoulder. “He’s got you there,” the guitarist said with a grin.

Jon swiftly flipped him the bird, which only made Richie’s grin widen.

“Do you guys want to hang with us?” Phil asked.

Jon and Richie glanced at each other. Richie just shrugged, while Jon said, “Sure. Might as well.”

The two of them made themselves comfortable on the small couch tucked away in a corner. Richie picked up one of Phil’s guitars that was lying around, checked to make sure it was in tune, and started messing around with a particular riff, one everybody in the room recognized.

“Seriously, Rich?” Jon said incredulously. “‘Pour Some Sugar on Me’?”

“What, would you rather it be . . .” Richie instantly started another riff, and the other six guys made various sounds of disbelief.

“‘Talk Dirty to Me’?” Joe all but snarled. “I’m starting to think you’re worse than Sav here.”

“Hey!” his bandmate protested.

Richie just shrugged, smirked, and switched songs yet again, singing along this time. _“In the still of the night, I hear the wolf howl, honey, sniffing around your door. In the still of the night I feel my heart beating heavy, telling me I gotta have more._

_“In the shadow of the night I see the full moon rise, telling me what’s in store. My heart started aching, my body started shaking, and I can’t take no more. No, no._

_“Now I just wanna get close to you and taste your love so sweet—”_

“That’s enough,” Joe growled, his green eyes flashing with flecks of yellow.

Jon’s own pale-blue eyes locked on Richie’s. “Whitesnake? Really?”

Richie smirked. “Hey, this song has a pretty cool guitar solo.”

“That’s what I told Joe,” Sav said, “but he didn’t believe me.” He playfully messed up the singer’s hair by running a splayed hand through it and quickly flicking it left to right. Joe sent him a dirty look, but Sav ignored it.

The lead guitar player in Bon Jovi gave an exaggerated sigh. Then he started playing yet another song, one very familiar to him. Jon sang softly, _“No one heard a single word you said. They should have seen it in your eyes what was going around your head. Ooh, she’s a little runaway. Daddy’s girl learned fast all those things he couldn’t say. Ooh, she’s a little runaway . . .”_

Joe noticed that his three guitarists were eyeing their guitars, fingers twitching, tapping out a familiar rhythm. He caught Rick’s eye and grinned when he saw the drummer was shaking with silent laughter. The werewolf gave a short nod to Sav and the Terror Twins, and all three assumed their playing positions. After checking to make sure they were in tune, the three Leppards began the mournful intro to “Bringin’ on the Heartbreak” with Joe singing the lyrics.

“Not bad,” Jon said when they’d finished. “That was off of, what, _High ‘N’ Dry_?”

“Yeah,” Steve answered. With a guitar in his hand, he was different from the sullen and jumpy Steve his bandmates knew when he lost himself in a bottle, setting sail with Captain Morgan, never to leave dry land.

“What else do you guys have?” Phil asked Jon and Richie.

They glanced at each other; then Richie’s fingers began moving over the fretboard once more, playing the intro to “You Give Love a Bad Name.” Then Sav and the Terror Twins cut in with “Stagefright.” Before long, the four guitarists were battling each other—or rather, the three Leppards were ganging up on Richie. Joe saw his own amusement reflected in Rick’s eyes, but when he glanced at Jon, the man’s pale-blue eyes were like ice, and his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. The lupine suppressed a shudder as he wondered if Jon felt anything at all. As much as he liked Jon, all of his instincts were shrieking at him to keep his band—his pack—away from any threat of danger. Joe had no doubt that Jon—whatever he was—was feeding on the energy coming from their bandmates. Although it didn’t seem to be hurting them, all his instincts were protesting against it.

Joe’s green eyes held Jon’s ice-blue ones, the lycanthrope’s eyes slowly turning yellow. His canines itched as they elongated, so his fangs were visible when he curled his upper lip in a warning snarl.

<Take it easy, Joe,> he heard Sav’s voice say over the pack bond.

<You know I can hear you, right?>

<Really? Cool, this does work! I can choose which thoughts to send to you, right?>

<Yes. Now shut up and play.>

A tiny smile flickered on Sav’s lips, then was gone before Jon or the others noticed. Joe wondered if he’d even seen it, but he was careful not to send the thought to Sav. Besides, the way Jon was eyeing him wasn’t making his wolf go away; if anything, the urge to shift was dangerously close. If he let the wolf go, he wasn’t sure exactly how Jon, Richie, Steve, Phil, or Rick would take it. Sav had known about his lycanthropy for five years, but the rest of Def Leppard had only found out about his animalistic nature the night before, and only Sav had seen him turn ’wolf. Joe wasn’t sure how much Jon and Richie knew about him: his wolf had been the one to detect that Jon fed on the energy he stole from humans. If the lupine had to name what Jon and David were, he’d call them psychic vampires—and even that was a tentative label at best. Energy vampires, maybe. In any case, Joe was going to lose it if he stayed in the dressing room for too long.

As casually as he could, he excused himself and walked out of the dressing room. In the men’s restroom, he made a beeline for the sink, turned on the faucet, and splashed cold water on his face. Joe couldn’t help glancing in the mirror as he reached for a paper towel. His eyes were slowly returning to their normal color, and his fangs were receding, too. The danger of the change taking hold was fading. For now.

His ears caught the whisper of air and the scrape against the floor as the bathroom door opened. A familiar scent reached his nose even before Sav asked, “Are you okay, Joe?”

Joe didn’t answer. Glancing down at the sink, he saw his knuckles were gripping the counter so tightly they were as white as the porcelain. His entire body was tense, though he had no idea why.

Sav’s scent wreathed around him, and familiar, long, calloused fingers gently touched his shoulder. Joe’s thin line of control snapped. He whirled, grabbed Sav by the shirt collar, and had the bassist up against the tiled wall. The lycanthrope leaned in close, his warm mouth hovering over the skin where neck met shoulder. His right hand began playing with Sav’s long brown curls, while his left hand was braced on the wall in front of him.

“Um, Joe, have you lost it?”

When he finally spoke, Joe’s voice was low, dark, and six shades of ragged: “Yeah. Half my human side, a long time ago.” Was that really his voice? It sure didn’t sound like it. “What is it my wolf sees in you?” Now his voice had a questioning lilt, still rough, but curious, too. “There’s something vulnerable, submissive, and he finds that amusing. At first, I wondered if that was all, but now . . .” His sharpened canines scraped the soft skin of Sav’s throat, then traveled upward, tugging at Sav’s left earlobe before tracing his jawline.

During all this, Sav had gone completely still, though Joe sensed his muscles quivering, heard the breath hitch in Sav’s throat. Sav’s pulse was racing, and the werewolf could smell the musk that belied desire. He was pretty sure REO Speedwagon’s “Can’t Fight This Feeling” was playing over the sound system throughout the building—cheesy as all get-out, especially considering the position he was currently in—but at the moment, Joe didn’t care. His focus was entirely on the man in front of him—and the beast inside threatening to take him over.

“Now, what?” Sav rasped, bringing Joe out of his dazed explorations.

“Huh?”

“You were saying,” Sav prompted, voice thick.

“My wolf . . . he wants you.”

“How? I’m already in your pack.”

Joe leaned in even closer, so close their shirts brushed. His right hand tightened its grip on Sav’s hair, and his lips grazed the spot where he’d bitten Sav the night before. “What do you think?” he growled low.

Before the beta could reply, the door opened and in walked Jon and Richie. Both Joe and Sav sprang apart, but neither Richie nor Jon seemed fazed. If anything, Richie’s expression was of the cat-swallowed-the-canary variety, and Jon . . . well, his expression was hard to read, but Joe thought the other singer looked amused. A low growl rumbled in his chest before he could stop it and he stepped in front of Sav, claws sprouting from his fingertips.

Instantly the cat-swallowed-the-canary look vanished from Richie’s face, while calm stole across Jon’s. Bon Jovi’s lead singer stepped forward, hands open where Joe could see them. “Take it easy,” he said in a soothing tone, as if he were talking to a cornered animal. “We’re not trying to move in on your territory.”

The werewolf’s only reply was to bare his fangs and step forward. Joe’s ’wolf was very close to the surface—too close. Then cool hands were on his back, his shoulders, and the touch—the effect—of the anchor brought his human side back in control. Joe’s claws and fangs retracted, and he breathed in, sent Sav a mental message over the pack bond that he was okay now. The bassist’s hands lingered on his shoulders for a couple seconds, then lifted.

Joe’s eyes fixed on Jon and Richie. “Sorry about that.”

“What was that?” Richie asked, looking from Jon to Joe to Sav and back to Jon. “I know about you, but what is he?”

“I’m a werewolf,” Joe answered before Jon could, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He had to bite back the “isn’t it obvious,” but it was in there. “Did you guys come in here for some other reason than to use the loo?”

“Yeah, your bandmates sent us to look for you. Said something about lunch later on, and, well, I got the impression they were scared of you,” Jon said. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Now we know why, although I’ve suspected that since I first met you. I’m guessing your wolf picked up on my and David’s secret.”

“Uh-huh,” Joe said shortly. Sav shifted his weight behind him, and the lupine took that as his cue. “Looks like you’ve found us. See you later tonight, eh?”

He brushed past Jon and Richie without waiting for their response, Sav on his heels. Once the door was shut behind them, he glanced at his beta, knowing he had a lot of explaining to do—and wondering exactly how he was going to do it.

A smile flickered across Sav’s face as blue eyes met pale-green ones.

Each could see the need in the other’s.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Sav’s gaze held Joe’s for a moment longer, then dropped to a safer place—nose, mouth, shoulders. He’d known Joe’s secret ever since he’d accidentally walked in on him on a full moon night—Change Night, some called it—to find Joe halfway into the lupine state, and had been involved in all sorts of crazy since then, but these past three days made some past events seem downright normal. Being claimed by an alpha werewolf, the complexities of his relationship with said ’wolf, and the stress of being on tour coupled with the full moon . . . This was definitely one of the strangest tours he’d ever been on.

“I don’t suppose you want to tell me exactly what you were doing before we were interrupted,” he mumbled.

“It’s fairly obvious, don’t you think?”

Yes, it was, but he wanted to hear Joe say it. Not that Sav would ever admit it, just like he wouldn’t admit that he’d liked what the ’wolf had been doing to him—and he wanted more. He was pretty sure Joe knew that, that the lupine had been able to smell it on him. If Jon and Richie hadn’t walked in when they did, what would have happened? Sav knew it wasn’t entirely one-sided: Joe had admitted that his ’wolf wanted him, and Sav had guessed that, for some reason or another, he was the only one who could help the singer when the beast inside was fully in control. He’d felt Joe’s tense muscles relax under his touch (and quiver, too). The bass player was also sure that Joe had been able to smell his rising desire, and Sav didn’t quite know what to make of that anyway. Still, he couldn’t stop picturing the scene back in the restroom: Joe up against him, tasting him . . . _claiming_ him in the way his ’wolf wanted . . .

“It’s not just my ’wolf,” Joe said suddenly.

_What the fu—_

“I can read your mind. There’s an empathy link, remember?”

“Can you turn it off?”

The singer flashed him a wicked smile. “Only if I want to.”

“Do you?”

“No.”

 _Wonderful,_ Sav thought sarcastically.

“You never answered my question,” Joe said after a slight pause.

“Because I want to hear you say it.” So much for not admitting that out loud.

“Say what?”

Sav, frustrated, raked a hand through his hair. “You know bloody well what,” he snapped. “You’re the one who had me up against the wall, teasing me—wanting—”

“Okay, you’re right,” Joe interrupted, the hint of a growl in his voice. “And so was I. It’s not just my ’wolf who wants you, Sav.” He sighed, shook his head. “The thing with this—and this is what I’ve learned from other ’wolves—is you can be the straightest person on Earth, but when the wolf picks its mate, your human side has no say in it. And, well, it looks like my ’wolf chose you.”

“Damn.” Sav’s eyes flew to Joe’s, then glanced away just as quickly.

“Hey, do you two want to move?” said Richie from the bathroom doorway. “You’re blocking the hallway.”

Both Joe and Sav jumped, startled, and moved out of their fellow rocker’s way, then headed back to the dressing room.

When the werewolf and his bandmate were out of sight, Richie turned to Jon. “So, do you think there’s something between them, or is that just me?”

“It’s not just you,” Jon said with a smile, his fingers playing with Richie’s long dark hair. “I see it too—we even walked in on them, Sambora.”

“What were they doing, exactly?” Richie mused. “Certainly not what you do to me or what David does to Tico when you share that stolen energy after a gig.”

“Not exactly,” Jon said. “I don’t know much about werewolves—”

Richie scoffed. “Does anyone?”

“—but it’s fairly obvious he’s made Sav part of his pack.”

“Meaning what?”

“What do you know about wolves?”

“Not much. I know there’s a strong pack mentality, but that’s about it.”

“And you’ve hit the nail on the head,” Jon commented, starting to walk down the hall to his band’s own dressing room. His best friend scurried after him. “Joe’s lupine, so he has that pack mentality, and he’s an alpha on top of that—a pack leader.”

“How do you—” Richie began, then stopped. “Oh, yeah, that whole feeding-on-energy thing. For someone who doesn’t know a whole lot about werewolves, you sure know a lot.”

“I read, believe it or not. Anyway, he probably views me and David as a threat to his pack.”

“Pack?”

“His band. Def Leppard.”

“Oh. You think he had anything to do with their first guitarist leaving?” Richie was remembering how Jon had had Alec leave Bon Jovi: staring into the bassist’s eyes, tearing out a piece of his soul, implanting a false memory.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Jon said.

An evil smile slowly crawled across Richie’s face. He threw back his head and cackled, wringing his hands together, while Jon looked at him like he was nuts. “What was that?”

“So much ammunition,” Richie said gleefully. _“Aahoo! Werewolves of London. Aahoo! Aahoo! Werewolves of London. Aahoo!”_

“He’s from Sheffield, actually,” Jon said with a smirk.

“Ah, so you see my point.”

“Yeah. Now shut up before Joe hears you. Do you really want an angry werewolf out for your blood?”

“No.”

“Now you see _my_ point. C’mon, let’s see if Tico and David are around anywhere.”

*

Hours later, Jon and his bandmates were just coming offstage; the members of Def Leppard were in the wings. As David and Jon passed him, Joe wrinkled his nose. It was an involuntary reaction—he couldn’t help it. He knew Jon and David glutted themselves every night they played: his ’wolf sensed it. Thankfully, the two bands were playing “in the round” and it was the last night of the full moon. Yes, the full moon made it easier for Joe’s lupine to grab hold of him, but the reason it was most associated with werewolves was because it was the ’wolf Sabbath. During its other phases, it was still an influence on lycanthropes, but more powerful ones—or even sharp newbloods—could shift at will.

When Bon Jovi was completely offstage, Joe, Sav, Phil, Rick, and Steve took their places. (Joe thought it was pure genius making their way to the stage in laundry carts: no one ever thought about what was in a laundry cart, and this way, they weren’t mobbed by the fans. Besides, being near so many humans excited the ’wolf bloodlust, and when they came up through the stage floor, the crowd almost always went nuts. It was one of the band’s favorite things about performing in the round, and the fact there were four front row seats didn’t hurt, either. Certainly it beat performing on a regular stage, where people in the way back might not hear or see them clearly.)

Joe glanced around at his packmates to see if they were ready, then looked out to the audience. “I said, Welcome to my show. Just you and me, babe. We got the whole damn night to go!”

The guitars kicked in, and Joe was already crossing to the other side of the stage, singing the next verse of “Stagefright.” One advantage about performing during Change Nights was that he had a lot of excess energy. On the downside, when the performance high wore off, he was almost sick—or so it seemed—with the moon-fever. That was for later, though.

When they reached “Love Bites” in their set list, Joe found his attention was drawn to Sav. Suddenly it took on a very personal meaning—and none of their songs were personal, save maybe “Photograph” and “Rocket” (and even those were about Marilyn Monroe and favorite bands, respectively).

_“I don’t wanna touch you too much, baby,’cos makin’ love to you might drive me crazy. I know you think that love is the way you make it, so I don’t wanna be there when you decide to break it. No!”_

Sometime during that verse, he and Sav were back-to-back. His ’wolf, sensing the bassist’s nearness, leapt to the surface, trailing a clawed hand down Sav’s side. Hopefully, from the angle they were at, no one in the audience could see.

_“Love bites, love bleeds—it’s bringing me to my knees. Love lives, love dies—it’s no surprise. Love begs, love pleads—it’s what I need.”_

Sav’s head rested on Joe’s shoulder, eyes half-closed in bliss as his fingers moved across the guitar strings, a smile ghosting over his face. It was incredibly sensual all of a sudden, and Joe had to fight the urge to taste him. Phil and Steve did stuff like that onstage all the time, but then again, they weren’t called the Terror Twins for nothing. Besides, stunts like that were expected of those two, not Sav and Joe.

“When I’m with you, are you somewhere else?Am I getting through, or do you please yourself? When you wake up, will you walk out? It can’t be love if you throw it about. Oooh, babe . . .”

Joe’s ’wolf was going crazy, trying to take over. A familiar heat was coursing through him; his eyes were flickering from green to yellow-ish and back again.

“Don’t you dare go ’wolf on me,” Sav hissed, so quiet that only Joe could hear.

For once, the anchor wasn’t working. Joe gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and willed the heat in his skin to dissipate.

Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, he made it through the rest of “Love Bites.” Then the band launched into “Comin’ Under Fire,” which really didn’t help.

_“Your kinda woman got a heart of stone, but watch it break when I get you alone. Take a chance, come lay down with me. Oh, I wanna make it!_

_“Slow and steady never lost the race. Don’t stop runnin’; I’m a fool for the chase. Play the game, surrender to me. Baby, I don’t wanna fake it._

_“Is it any wonder, you got me comin’ under fire? Comin’ like thunder, you know you make me walk the wire . . .”_

Joe knew he was in serious trouble when the ’wolf crept into his eyes, his canines twisted into fangs, and his nails curled into claws. He risked a glance at Sav, one that screamed Help me! in big silent letters. What was wrong with him? He’d always kept control when performing on Change Nights before, save for last night.

Sav made his way over to Joe as casually as he could—they’d separated during “Love Bites”—and leaned against Joe’s free side, the one that didn’t have the microphone. This time, his human side was able to push back the ’wolf, and signs of what he was were hidden again.

_“It’s so easy to put on a show. Your body says yes, but you won’t let it go. But my passion, it won’t slip away . . .”_

A few songs later, the band took a breather. Joe reached out for one of the water bottles that were always kept onstage and took a swig. Then a sudden shriek and a startled noise from Sav made his head whip around. His eyes bulged and the water hit his stomach as a cold, hard lump.

Some chick had somehow managed to grab hold of Sav’s leg; the bassist’s face was petrified, like, Someone get this crazy chick off me! He was trying to back away, but that wasn’t helping.

A swift glance at the others showed they were trying not to bust out laughing. So it was up to Joe—again.

He stalked across the stage, growling low in his throat. His eyes flicked side-to-side—ever a wolf, always predatory. The werewolf reached Sav and the teenage girl and glared down at her, allowing some of the lupine to creep into his eyes, the growl never ceasing. His nails were slightly longer than normal, but he doubted the girl would notice, since his hands were busy disengaging hers from Sav’s leg. And if they accidentally grazed Sav’s arse, well, was it really his fault?

“Oh my God” reached his ears; Joe jerked his head up from near Sav’s shoulder as if he’d been whipped—or caught a tantalizing prey-scent—and glared at the audience member, who took a step back at the wild, dangerous look in his pale-green eyes.

Seconds later, the atmosphere returned to normal, or as normal as could be expected, and the band resumed their playing positions. Joe swept his gaze over the audience before he lifted the mike to his mouth and said, “This next song is off a fairly new album, so we’re a little nervous about covering it. But since it fits the mood for tonight . . .” He shrugged. “Let us know what you think, yeah?”

There was silence, then Phil and Steve’s guitars screamed out the opening chords to a Whitesnake single.

_“In the still of the night I hear the wolf howl, honey, sniffing around your door. In the still of the night I feel my heart beating heavy, telling me I gotta have more._

_“In the shadow of the night I see the full moon rise, telling me what’s in store. My heart started aching, my body started shaking, and I can’t take no more. No, no!_

_“Now I just wanna get close to you and taste your love so sweet. And I just wanna make love to you, feel your body heat._

_“In the still of the night.In the still of the night! Over here, baby._

_“In the heat of the day I hang my head down low and hide my face from the sun. From the light of the day until the evening time, I’m waiting for the night to come.  Ooh, baby!_

_“In the still of the night,in the cool moonlight, I feel my heart is aching in the still of the night . . .”_

During all those verses, the band had been moving around the stage, and Joe found himself paired with Sav yet again. The bassist’s scent filled his nostrils; it took everything in him to resist bending his head to taste that skin, the throbbing pulse of life-blood. Thankfully, he had to sing the next verse, while the others were on a soft guitar solo.

_“Oooh, baby. Oooh, babe. I can’t keep away. Need to be closer._

_“I can’t keep away,can’t keep away, can’t keep away. I can’t keep away, no._

_“You gotta give me love. Got to give me some loving everyday. Can’t keep away.  Ooh, baby. Ooh, Lord. Aahh!_

_“Tell me here, baby.”_

Phil, Steve, and Sav were ripping it up on the guitar solo, while Joe—as usual—was running (or not) around onstage. Phosphorescent-blue eyes locked in on Sav on the next verse and stayed there as he moved ever closer to his beta.

_“In the still of the night I hear the wolf howl, honey, sniffing around your door. In the still of the night I feel my heart beating heavy, telling me I gotta have more._

_“Ooh! Mama!_

_“Now I just wanna get close to you and taste your love so sweet. And I just wanna make love to you, feel your body heat in the still of the night. Oh, yeah, in the still of the night I will be sneaking round your door ._

_“In the still of the night!In the still of the night! Ain’t nothing gonna stop me now._

_“Still of the night! Still of the night! Still of the night! Still of the night! Still of the night! Still of the night! Still of the night! Still of the night! Still of the night!”_

The crowd was going nuts—or, rather, the teenage girls were—so the ’wolf figured they’d liked the Whitesnake cover. Of course, the fact he’d let some of the wild animal inside him show didn’t hurt either, although he figured none of the humans would know what the physical changes meant, if they were visible at all.

A couple of songs later, the concert was over and the band filed off below the stage. The members of Bon Jovi were waiting there, sly smirks twitching at Richie’s mouth and lighting in Jon’s ice-blue eyes.

“What?” Joe asked, looking from guitarist to singer.

Mischievous laughter danced in Sambora’s eyes. “So, did you mean that, Joe?”

Joe suddenly found it hard to look at his packmates—bandmates, whatever. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied.

Richie’s smirk widened. “How does that one verse go? Oh, yeah: _In the shadow of the night I see the full moon rise, telling me what’s in store. My heart started aching, my body started shaking, and I can’t take no more . . . Now I just wanna get close to you, and taste your love so sweet. And I just wanna make love to you, feel your body heat . . ._ Then, of course, all the moves with you and Sav onstage—”

The low, feral growl rumbled from Joe’s throat and he lunged for Richie, claws extended and fangs bared. Strong arms wrapped around him before he could reach the Jovi guitarist and drew him close; Sav’s comforting scent filled his senses. But at the moment, the anchor wasn’t helping. Joe’s ’wolf was out for blood—and it wouldn’t be denied, not even by a human beta.

“Sav, let me go!” he snarled, twisting and bucking, trying to loosen Sav’s hold on him.

“Sorry, mate, not happening.” Sav’s long hair brushed Joe’s neck as he turned his head to glare at their bandmates. “Don’t just stand there! Help me!”

“You look like you’re doing just fine,” Rick said quickly after a pause.

 _Coward._ Joe nearly burst out laughing when he caught Sav’s thought, but since he was still struggling, it would look odd. So he sent the laugh into Sav’s mind.

Jon and his bandmates, meanwhile, had dragged Richie out of harm’s way. David, Tico, and Richie were staring at Joe with wide, frightened eyes; their fear-scent was delicious to the werewolf. He twisted in Sav’s arms, claws digging into the pink skin, drew blood. Joe heard Sav’s hissing intake of breath at the pain, but he still wouldn’t release him.

Then, somehow (he wasn’t sure how), his back was to the nearest wall, Sav’s body pressing against his.

“Joe, cool it!” Sav hissed.

Those glowing yellow-green eyes, filled with bloodlust, never left Richie. Sav could only watch helplessly as he felt Joe’s body grow uncomfortably hot, saw the strong features begin to twist and fracture. Joe, his Joe, was no longer there. The beast that wore his skin had crept in to replace him, and in all honesty, Sav was more scared now than he had ever been in his life. He could die here with Joe in his arms if he bit him, an instinctive snapping of jaws in the throes of the metamorphosis, or the bite could change him forever—turn him ’wolf. Since there was no cure, there would be no going back. But for one long trusting moment while he held Joe, none of that mattered.

Sav’s hand rested on the golden fur covering Joe’s flank, feeling the muscles there quiver. Then the lupine shook his ruff, hackles raised, and forced his way free of the restraining hold. Snarling, Joe crept closer to Richie, muscles tense, and leaped, blue eyes narrowed with hatred.

“Oh, bloody hell,” the Terror Twins said in unison. Rick mumbled something incoherent, while Sav yelled, “NO!” The bassist practically flew the few yards separating him from Joe and landed squarely on the ’wolf’s back. Startled, the lupine yelped and jumped straight up into the air, crow-hopping and bucking desperately in a circle to try to throw the unexpected weight off. Sav clung on, eyes narrowed in determination—and his arm dangerously close to Joe’s muzzle.

He’d never be sure if it was by accident or not, but dagger-like fangs sank into the skin on his arm. Sav yelled with pain and wrenched himself free of Joe’s lupine body, landing heavily on the floor.

The ’wolf forgot all about Richie and swung around to face Sav. Recognition flared in those glowing orbs, then dismay as they saw the bite mark on Sav’s arm. A low whine spilled from his throat, and he padded on silent paws over to the bassist. Joe snuffled at Sav’s hair, his face, then licked the pale skin that was already burning. He didn’t want to face those accusing blue eyes, eyes that screamed _How could you? You’d promised you wouldn’t give me the bite!_

Above them, unseen, the full moon reached its zenith.

Sav’s cry of pain mixed with Joe’s anguished howl. He felt as if his insides were being squeezed into a vice; he was burning, his body on fire . . . Then the feeling broke, replaced by a calming wave. Instinctively Sav knew it was wrong to feel this way: a feeling this good only came with a terrible price.

He tried to stand up, but his body didn’t want to work like that.

It wanted to stay on all fours.

The faces of Jon, Richie, Tico, David, Rick, Steve, and Phil were much higher than he was, and they all reflected shock and horror. And Joe’s lupine face was at eye level.

Sav glanced down and froze when he saw his paws—yes, _paws_. Then he turned rapidly in a circle, chasing his . . . well, his _tail_. All of his senses seemed sharper, and his vision had a strange reddish tint.

Then the truth hit him with horrible clarity and he shrank back on his haunches, ears flat against his furry head. <No,> he moaned. <No, no, _no_ . . . >

Joe’s scent enveloped him as the bigger ’wolf nuzzled him, and Sav relaxed. His alpha was here, would know what to do. He wanted Joe’s ’wolf to reach inside him, control him, because he had no idea how to handle his lycanthropy. Since he couldn’t, he needed someone who would. Instinctively, the submissive beta whined and licked at Joe’s jaw before rolling onto his back, exposing his fur-covered belly.

<Sav, it’s okay,> Joe soothed even as he was taking in the bassist’s lupine form. Sav’s fur was the same shade of brown as his hair, his belly fur a shade lighter, and his blue eyes were the same—human eyes. So that meant Sav was probably a wereling—a werewolf that retained its humanity even in the lupine state. Some purebloods saw werelings as the perfect synthesis between man and wolf, while others thought they weakened the pack. Joe, since he himself wasn’t pureblood, didn’t care. <Just focus on me, okay? I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to bite you.>

<Help me,> Sav pleaded, rolling over so his paws were tucked under him. His ’wolf chanted, _Take us over. Make us_ yours.

 _You’re already mine,_ the alpha growled. It reached out to the beta ’wolf, forced the shift.

Sav’s sleek werewolf form was smaller than Joe’s, but it was just as muscled and, well, beautiful. The alpha was aware of the others watching as the ’wolf body shrunk in on itself, fur shriveled back under pores, bones cracked as they adjusted to human form. Finally Sav was human again, his clothes in tatters. Joe changed back as well, and rested a hand on Sav’s shoulder. The newblood, in shock, buried his head where Joe’s neck met shoulder, locked his arms around Joe’s neck, and kept them there, trembling.

Joe’s eyes met Jon’s ice-blue ones. “Jon, can you . . .?” He gestured toward his bandmates. “I don’t want them remembering this.”

“Hey!” Rick protested. Whatever else he was going to say died in his throat when pale-green eyes turned on him. Joe said, “You guys only found out about my lycanthropy last night and you’ve barely handled it. How would you deal with another ’wolf in the band?”

“He’s got a point there,” Steve mumbled.

Jon asked Joe, “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

It was over within a minute. None of the other three Leppards would remember the truth about Joe, and now Sav.

Jon shot Richie a slightly smug look.

“Don’t say it,” Richie grumbled.

“Oh, but I must. I told you so.”

“Yeah, you did. Happy now?”

“Very,” Jon said smugly.

“When you two are quite finished,” David interrupted, crossing his arms and glaring at his bandmates.

Jon and Richie cracked smiles at each other before Jon said, “We’re good.”

“Great,” Joe said, “’cuz I want to crash back at the hotel. We all do,” he added, resting his chin on top of Sav’s head for emphasis.

Sav inhaled deeply, taking his alpha’s scent into his lungs, then finally lifted his head. “Sleep sounds good right now.”

“Fine by me,” Tico agreed, a knowing look in his eyes as he studied Sav and Joe.

*

In what seemed like minutes (but was really an hour) later, everyone in Def Leppard was in their penthouse condo. Phil, Steve, and Rick were passed out in separate beds, but Sav suddenly found he didn’t want to be alone tonight.

He hesitated before climbing into bed. Not wanting to risk waking the others, he reached out to Joe over the pack bond. <Joe?>

<Yeah?>

<I don’t want to be alone tonight. Will you—?>

<Sure,> his alpha replied, maybe a little too quickly, but Sav didn’t care. He slipped under the covers and closed his eyes, aware of Joe’s warm, muscled body stretching out beside him.

An arm banded across his chest, drew him close, and everything in the newblood went limp.

A small smile curved Joe’s lips before he joined Sav in dreamland.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I even have to warn you there's smut up ahead? By the way, this is the last chapter in this story. I've already started the first chapter in the next one. I'm also toying with the idea of having a human Sav help Joe through a full moon, but it'll be much darker than in _Moonlight_.

He was running in lupine form, his alpha matching him stride for stride, step for step, their pelts occasionally brushing. Sav reveled in the strength in his new body as he bounded across the dark, barren landscape. The sky above the two ’wolves was blood-red, with no sun visible. Dead, leafless trees spiraled up from the hard ground, clawing at the bleeding sky.

The fear-scent was strong in his nostrils, exciting his bloodlust. When he and Joe caught up to their prey, they would attack, tearing into warm flesh, feasting on the bloody meat. His ’wolf loved the rush of the hunt, the buzz that came with the kill. Running—hunting—with his alpha: That was the way it was supposed to be . . .

_No!_

Sav’s blue eyes snapped open and he bolted upright in bed, his breathing labored, sheets and body soaked with sweat. He wasn’t even aware that Joe’s arm had slid down from his chest to his lap—but then he was more focused on his dream.

He’d _enjoyed_ being ’wolf . . .

Sav groaned and put his head in his hands, jerking up with something sharp pricked his scalp. Glancing at his hands, he saw that his nails had lengthened and sharpened to dagger-like points. Even as he watched, they quickly resumed their normal length and shape.  
The bass player quickly checked the rest of his body to see if any other parts of him were changing. Much to his relief, everything else was human. He couldn’t help sighing—maybe louder than he meant to, because Joe stirred in his sleep. Only then did Sav realize where Joe’s arm had landed. A warm flush crept up the back of his neck and spread to his cheeks. He gently lifted Joe’s arm to try to set it beside its owner, but the contact made Joe raise his head, green eyes blinking away sleep. The singer slurred, “What’s wrong, Sav?”

“Nothing,” he lied. “Go back to sleep.”

Joe was suddenly wide awake. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, his green eyes staring straight into Sav’s blue ones. “Don’t lie to me,” he said softly, the hint of a growl in his voice.

Sav couldn’t help it: He went submissive, lying back down, exposing his throat and stomach to his alpha. In human form, this was as close to the submissive postures as he could get. When Joe used that tone of voice . . . he was gone, completely under his spell, or whatever mind control this was.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Sav.” Though the words were spoken quietly, there was no denying that it was an order.

“Nightmare,” he whispered. “You were there—”

“Then how can it be a nightmare?”

Sav glared at him before flipping him the bird. “Will you let me finish?”

“Sorry. Go ahead.” Was that amusement in his voice? The beta’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he continued anyway.

“We were lupine, running, _hunting_. Joe, whatever it was, I _wanted_ to kill it, feast on it.” He shuddered. “That’s not what I’m like, at all.”

“Sav, you’re lupine now. Half wolf. And in ’wolf form, the instinct to hunt is natural. Our prey doesn’t have to be human; smaller animals will suffice. Or sheep, deer, elk, cattle . . . personally, I love venison. Hate birds, though. The feathers easily get stuck in my teeth.”

“And other ’wolves? What do they eat?”

Joe hesitated. “Well, okay, there are quite a few lycanthropes that go after humans. Who do you think the serial killers really are?”

The alpha whispered in Sav’s mind, _We are the ancient evil . . ._

Sav shivered, unable to hide the tremor racing up and down his body from Joe when the other werewolf was so close. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Joe was looking far too innocent for Sav’s liking.

“Your ’wolf. Are you _trying_ to freak me out?”

Joe smiled, his gaze predatory. “You don’t need my help for that, beta.” Had he leaned in closer? “There is something I need your help for, though. My ’wolf is hungry. _Very_ hungry.” Was Joe scenting him? “For you.” He ducked his head, licked the underside of Sav’s jaw. His hand wandered upward, then went to the side, resting on the mattress when he shifted positions so he was partly above Sav.

The beta ’wolf was confused, his mind screaming this was wrong while his body and the animal inside him wanted even more. Joe smelled of warmth, protection, and—God help him— _mate_. Yeah, the human part of him had wanted this on a level of some sort—the effect Joe had on him was evidence of that—but now that the moment was here, Sav wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted. So he just let go and allowed the wolf to take over.

Joe’s warm mouth found his as skin brushed skin. Sav’s canines twisted into fangs as the fire burned hot, then hotter, and his fangs sank into Joe’s left shoulder. There was a white-hot burst of pleasure/pain when the alpha mirrored the action, but Sav didn’t mind. He gasped as Joe’s claws trailed down his spine, the skin there incredibly sensitive.

“Mine,” Joe growled, his eyes glowing blue.

Sav said something real intelligent, like, “Uh-huh.” Truth was, he couldn’t think straight. He was so caught up in what his alpha was doing to him. He was on fire, his body burning up . . .

The wolf in him quieted when he reached his peak, arching upwards under Joe’s hard form. Then he was completely limp, his mind wondering what the heck had just happened.

“I told you my ’wolf wanted you for its mate,” Joe said, reading his thoughts. “Looks like it succeeded.”

Sav found he couldn’t form coherent speech. So he just rested his head on Joe’s shoulder, enjoying the heat his body provided.

Submission had never been a word he was comfortable with. It had connotations, connotations like weak, slavish. In actuality, he felt complete when Joe was near, but there was no other word for this. And Sav was okay with that.


End file.
